Empire
by chichidark
Summary: 14 year old Kakarott is struggling with the drudge of everyday life in the Squalor and splendor of a Planet Vegeta made over by the mad Emperor, Frieza. AU, rated M for yaoi and rape in later chapters. updated!Please R&R. UPDATED!
1. Home Sweet Home

Disclaimer: I don't own dbz or any of it's characters...I just like playing around with it.

A.N: Okay, not many warnings for the first chapter. Just a few hints of abuse.

The city lights were dim, but ambient against the bluish gloom of early evening. Kakarott strolled casually down the damp sidewalk between the rows of run down buildings. His hair was limp and wet and his jeans and t-shirt were soaked and clinging to his skin.

He had not been able to escape the rain earlier. His older brother, Raditz, whom he lived with, had practically kicked him out of the house for the day when he'd heard that a commander from the Royal Guard was coming to interview him. He was obsessed with being accepted into the Royal Guard, a feat rarely accomplished by low level soldiers. He had been livid when their father had dumped Kakarott on him just as he had entered the Guard Academy. Kakarott lived in the aftermath of his brother's bitterness.

He shivered slightly against the sharp evening breeze and stuck his ands into his damp jeans pockets as two soldiers passed him, speaking excitedly.

"--Should we do tonight?" one of them asked, pulling off his chestplate.

"Man, I know this place a few blocks from here: booze, girls, you name it, they've got it."

They both laughed heartily.

Kakarott walked on slowly, watching them disappear beyond the lit shopping district. He turned down the left street at the end of the block and started towards the dark rows of dilapidated houses that belonged to Planet Vegeta's lower class population.

As he approached the first house on the right side of the second block down, he vaguely wondered the time. Thick light was spilling out onto the porch from the two front windows. Kakarot climbed the stairs and knocked heavily on the rickety screen door.

After a minute or two, the front door opened and Raditz stood in the doorway, looking as surly and annoyed as ever. He moved aside to let his younger brother into the house.

At first, Raditz didn't speak to Kakarott and he assumed he was dismissed. However, as he began to climb the stairs to his room, he heard his older brother's gruff voice call him back.

He descended the stairs and went back into the well lit living room. He noticed that papers with the Guard Academy seal on them were strewn all over the coffee table.

The moment he came to Raditz, his older brother gripped his upper arm and backhanded him sharply across the face. Kakarott looked up at him in confusion, his eyes tearing from the blow.

"What day is today, Kakarott? Refresh my memory," Raditz asked quietly.

For a moment, Kakarott's mouth worked, but no words were produced. Raditz shook him violently.

"W-Wednesday," he managed, not looking at his older brother. He realized what he had done wrong.

"And what are you supposed to do on Wednesdays?" Raditz asked in the same terrifyingly calm voice.

Kakarott looked down at his feet until Raditz jerked his arm painfully.

"I'm-I'm-I'm supposed to-to go to Rice's for training," he replied, willing the tears of fear and pain not to fall. He didn't want to make his brother any angrier.

"I will not tolerate you slacking in your training, as meager as it is. I will not allow you to become any weaker than you already are under my watch. You will go to Rice tomorrow and apologize for your forgetfulness."

Raditz released him. Kakarott rubbed his arm in the place where his brother's fingers had probably bruised him. He could feel his cheek stinging and knew he'd probably have a bruise there tomorrow as well.

He gripped the railing of the stairwell and started to ascend the stairs to his room again. He paused briefly to look down into the living room. Raditz was sitting on the worn sofa, going through the Guard papers. For the first time in a long time, he actually looked happy.


	2. The Daily Grind

Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ or any of it's characters.

A.N: no warnings in this chapter really.

A plate of cold meat clattered on the old cheap kitchen table. Kakarott glanced at it and then up at his older brother.

Raditz looked annoyed.

"What?! What do I look like/ Your mother? Eat and don't complain!"

Kakarott rubbed the bruised on his cheek.

As he ate, Raditz talked. He sometimes had the suspicion that his brother liked the sound of his own voice.

"I want you to do whatever Rice tells you. I found out that I'm a candidate for the Royal Guard yesterday and if I make it, I'll be moving nearer to the palace and you'll be staying with him."

Kakarott liked Rice. He was kind to him and would probably take much better care of him than Raditz ever had anyway. While he wasn't terribly disappointed that he wouldn't be going with his brother, he was still curious as to why.

"Why can't I come with you?' he asked after swallowing a mouthful.

Raditz shot him a look of contempt.

"Because, you idiot, I won't have time to babysit you. I tried to get father to take you, but he's always been a flake when it comes to his brats."

Kakarott almost snorted. He would never have expected to go to his father's. The man had given him to Raditz at the tender age of five in order to pursue adventure and fame.

Kakarott downed the glass of water that had clattered down near the plate.

He looked up to see Raditz putting on gloves, completing the full regalia of the Royal Guard Academy. He was watching himself in the mirror above the sink. He looked quite pleased with himself. He looked at Kakarott in the mirror, tossing his head.

"Why are you still here?"

Kakarott stood up and put his dishes in th sink. He left through the back door without saying goodbye.

* * *

He knew almost immediately that Rice wasn't home. He never closed his windows when he was home, only when he went away on a mission. Kakarott sat down on the front steps of the small house. 

Raditz would have left by now. He supposed he could go home for a while before he had to go to work.

He wondered if father was home, but he doubted it. An overachiever in his own right, he often accepted more assignments than most lower level soldiers. Kakarott himself had never been like his father and brother. He had never been particularly warlike and was more interested in living quietly. However, such a life had nothing to do with the Saiyan way.

It had begun to rain and he started toward the shopping district. He had a friend who worked in a homey little diner there.

He never remembered the name of the diner. It's sign had faded to the point of being unreadable, but Bulma had told him the name one or twice before. He supposed he'd never thought the name important enough to remember.

It was positioned between a weapon shop and an old bar frequented by retired old veterans who no longer went on purges. It was well lit and gave off a very warm feeling. Kakarott enjoyed being there and often sat inside even when Bulma wasn't there.

Kakarott sat down at the counter. Bulma, who had her blue hair pulled back into a short ponytail, finished taking the order of two soldiers sitting at the counter as well and looked up at him.

She smiled a bright smile that reached her crystal blue eyes. The smile wavered a bit and Kakarott assumed she had seen the bruise on his cheek.

She called out the order and then spoke indistinctly to another waitress before removing her apron and coming out from behind the counter. She motioned toward a window booth and Kakarott followed her.

"Ugh," She sighed, plopping down on the cracked blue-cushioned seat, "I hate this job. Twelve of Emperor Frieza's soldiers came in here earlier this morning. It was awful! I swear, If someone touches my ass one more time----"

She looked thoroughly harassed in her wrinkled pink uniform. She was Kakarott's best friend, his only friend. Her planet, Earth, had been destroyed and she had been brought here many years ago. She had been one of the few humans to escape slavery.

"---Moving out of the house. I don't know where we're going to find a new roommate. Oh! How are things with your brother?"

She was staring at the bruise on his face. He looked away.

"Okay, I guess," He said quietly, playing with the salt shaker.

There was a pause in which the blatant lie rang in his ears. He felt stupid for having ever said it.

"What happened?" Bulma pressed, folding a napkin several times.

"Nothing. It's really not---he didn't hurt me bad this time."

Bulma smiled sadly at him.

"You can always spend the night at my place. My roommates wouldn't mind."

Kakarott shook his head.

"No, that's okay. Besides, he'd be really pissed if I didn't come home."

The word "home" felt awkward on his tongue. Kakarott bit his lip as punishment for it.

"Are you hungry? I can get you something and just put it on my tab" she said, looking at him thoughtfully.

His face lit up. He never turned down food.

Bulma raised her eyebrow and handed him the menu

"This is going to cost me a fortune, isn't it?"

Kakarott gave her a playfully evil laugh, flipping through the menu.

* * *

By the time he left the diner he was full and in a good mood. He felt better than her had in a long while. 

It was almost one and time for him to go to work. He worked in an antique shop, Raditz didn't know about it. His boss was human and even though lower level saiyans weren't considered much better than humans, Kakarott knew that Raditz still counted them better than the aliens who lived on Planet Vegeta.

After the death of the last Saiyan king and the advent of Emperor Frieza, many things had changed on Planet Vegeta. Tourism flourished again as it had in the time of the Tuffles and shops like the one Kakarott worked in had arose to satisfy the tourists' desires for alien treasures.

The bell above the door chimed as he pushed the door to the shop open. It was busy today, swarming with tourists and soldiers alike. Kakarott's boss, Alan Krump, waved him over frantically.

Krump was a thin man of about sixty with an extensive receding hairline and a neatly combed gray mustache. Today, he was wearing a blue striped shirt with a brown vest.

"Where have you been?" he asked impatiently, although Kakarott was not late.

Krump looked greedy and excited.

"Oh, I'm sure to make a lot of gold today," he said, grinning widely.

He thrust a shop apron at Kakarott, who quickly put it on.

"Go and help them over there, they look wealthy," Krump told him, pointing at the three elites looking at a shelf of old Saiyan weapons.

His stomach turned over nervously, He hated dealing with elites. They were always rude and condescending toward him.

He sighed and made his way over through the excited alien tourists.

"---Seems authentic. Look at it," The bald elite was saying, he was holding up a shortsword for one of the others to see. The others made thoughtful noises, which meant that the bald elite was the leader.

"Do you need some help?" Kakarott asked loudly, shouting over the noise in the shop.

The bald one turned first and the others followed suit. Kakarott felt his heart skip a beat. The bald man, he was a commander! And not just any commander, but commander of the entire saiyan army, Nappa.

The man seemed to be flattered at how star struck Kakarott was and smirked with pride, standing even straighter.

"What can you tell me about this?" he asked, watching Kakarott intensely.

Kakarott wasn't very bright, but his memory wasn't too shabby. His boss had drilled him about most of the things in the shop than pertained to Saiyan history and he was quite sure he would be able to impress the Commander.

"It's a Saiyan-made short sword, circa 230. It was designed to gut under the ribs. It was most likely used a few years before the annihilation of the Tuffles," he said confidently.

Commander Nappa's mouth had twitched up at the word "gut" and he'd run his finger along the blade.

"Gut under the ribs, eh? Interesting."

He turned the blade in his hands before looking at Kakarott again. He studied him for a long time, as if finally really noticing him.

After a few minute, Commander Nappa smiled, a genuine smile one would not expect from someone of his rank.

"What's your name?"

Kakarott was surprised.Why would the Commander of the entire Saiyan army want to know what he was called?

"Kakarott, sir?" he said quietly.  
"Kakarott..." The man's eyebrows furrowed in thought. "I've heard that name before. Do you by any chance have a brother?"

Kakarott nodded.

"Yes, sir. Raditz. He's in the Guard Academy."

The Commander smiled in recognition.

"Yeah, that's right. Your brother is certainly something to be a low level. He's been pissing off born elites almost as much as your father. He's good." He chuckled a bit before going silent. He looked at Kakarott quite strangely, a look he recognized, but couldn't place.

"Well," the Commander said after a moment, "I think I'll take the sword. I have the perfect place for it."

He handed it to Kakarott and he started toward the counter. Kakarott was really glad that the man didn't question him about his own strength or ambitions.

He wrapped the sword in a parcel while Krump rung up the purchase. One of the other elites handled the transaction and the Commander stood between his men with his arms folded, looking at Kakarott with interest.

When the sale was finished, the Commander smiled at Kakarott and then turned to leave.

"If I didnt know any better, I'd say the Commander was smitten with you," Krump said in a low voice.

Kakarott blinked at him, confused. He hoped that what he said wasn't true. He turned deep red before going to dust some shelves.


	3. Proposals and First times

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ or any of it's characters

A.N: Okay, people, we're gonna get a little squicky in this chapter. There's some non-squick lemon-ish in this chapter: OC/K. This chapter gets a it more in depth about where the story is going and hints at possible future Mpreg.

"Commander Nappa told me something odd today. He said that he met you and you were working in an antique shop. What in the hell was he talking about?"

He was using that dangerously calm voice that Kakarott had learned to fear.

It had been nearly two weeks since the Commander had first come into the antique shop. He had been back five times since then, each time talking to Kakarott at some length. Even in his worst fears about the Commander's continued visits, he hadn't thought about the possibility of Raditz finding out.

They were standing near the front door which Raditz had yanked him through the moment he had come home. His older brother was blocking the stairwell and he felt trapped.

Raditz grabbed his shoulders and shoved him hard against the door when he didn't respond.

"What-was-he-talking-about?" he said slowly in that same quiet voice.

Kakarott was shaking, but he didn't want to make things worse.

"I've been working at the antique shop in the shopping district," He replied, bracing himself for a blow.

Raditz squeezed his shoulders painfully. Kakarott cowered as he looked at him intensely.

"How many times has he seen you?" Raditz asked quietly, his voice a little softer, though Kakarot was sure his grip was bruising him.

"Five times..I think."

Raditz stood still for a moment before punching him hard in the stomach. He doubled over, collapsing to his knees.

"You complete fool. You don't even realize what you've done."

Kakarott looked up at his brother, arms still wrapped around his middle.

"The Commander asked me if I had given you away."

Kakarott gave him a few confused blinks before he rolled his eyes and clarified.

"If I had plans to marry you to anyone."

Oh. He had forgotten that bit of Saiyan culture. Their world was so mixed with old and new ways that he couldn't remember what was archaic and what was not.

He was what was referred to as a "bearer" in Saiyan culture. This meant that he was born with the ability to become pregnant. It was the reason why he had been kept by his family rather than sent out on missions. Bearers were often both loathed for their weakness and treasured for their rarity.

It was custom that in the event that a family has no daughters, a son who is a bearer may be married off to a usually older male in order to bear children for him.

Kakarott had never really been confronted with the possibility that he would be married off. Sure, Raditz had threatened him with such a thing several times to frighten him into obedience, but he had been sure that he never would.

He stood up slowly.

"I had planned to marry you to Rice, but---"

"No," Kakarott interrupted, shaking his head as he realized what he was going to say.

"It's for the best. Do you realize how rich the Commander is? You'll have a much better life."

"NO!!!"

Tears started to run down his face. He wanted to tell Raditz that the Commander would never love him the way Rice would, that _he_ could never love him that way. But he knew that his brother would just laugh.

"What did father say about it?" He sobbed.

Raditz raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"You seriously think father gives a damn what happens to you? I haven't seen him in months and he ignores most of my transmissions."

"YOU'RE DOING THIS FOR YOURSELF! YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW THAT! DO YOU THINK I'M FUCKING STUPID OR SOMETHING?" Kakarott raved, suddenly brave in his grief.

Raditz just stared at him, nonplussed.

"Did he make you a guard?" Kakarott asked, suddenly speaking softly again.

"Kakarott--"

"DID HE?! I think it's only fair to know what I was sold for. You at least owe me that."

"Yes, but---"

"How long do I have? When does he want me?"

His brother glared at him with a look of disgust so intense he could almost feel his skin burn from it.

"A week," he spat, "One week and I'll be rid of you."

Kakarott started to cry again. He felt alone and he wanted desperately to be loved. He turned and opened the front door. Raditz didn't try to stop him as he left the house and ran toward Rice's.

* * *

He pounded hard on Rice's front door, sobbing. The windows were open tonight. 

Rice shouted something indistinct and then the front door opened a few seconds later.

He stood there, tanned and shirtless, his short spiky hair was similar to Kakarott's own. He had been smiling slyly until he saw that Kakarott was crying.

He stood aside so that the boy could enter the house.

His house was barer than Kakarott's own, but a bit nicer. Kakarott sat down on the threadbare sofa and tried to calm down.

Rice sat down in a wooden chair not far from the sofa and sighed heavily.

"So he's told you, then," he said after a moment of silence.

"Y-Yeah."

"...I'm sorry...but maybe it really is for the best."

Kakarott started to cry hard just then. Rice waited patiently for him to stop. He didn't make fun of him or tell him to shut up.

"I'm scared," he confessed as he tried to stop crying, "I don't know anything about this kind of thing."

"Well, think about it: he's a Commander. THE Commander. He probably won't have much time to spend with you anyway and you can just spend your time spending his money."

Kakarott nodded.

"Yeah, but I'm more worried about the time he will spend with me..." he shuddered visibly.

"You'll...get used to it."

Kakarott was silent. Everything seemed like a nightmare. This was beyond anything he could ever have dreamed up.

"Dammit!" Rice said, "How could Raditz do this without even talking to you?"

"Because he's a selfish prick. He hates me,"

Rice shook his head.

"He doesn't hate you. He's just bitter. He had a hard life and then your father dumped you on him when you were just a kid. But I will give you that he's a selfish bastard."

"I'm going to stay here tonight," Kakarott said suddenly, gaging his reaction.

He just nodded without looking at him. Kakarott stretched out on the couch. Rice stood, getting the hint.

"I'll get blankets."

Kakarott turned his head and looked at an old picture sitting on the nearly new coffee table. It was of Raditz and Rice standing together in some ruined landscape. They were wearing armor so Kakarott assumed they had just finished a purge.

They were younger than him in the picture and they were smiling. Kakarott had never seen Raditz look so happy. They each had an arm around each other's shoulders and looked cocky, but amicable at the same time. Kakarott wondered where that Raditz had gone.

His eyes filled with tears. There were pictures like that at home too. He wasn't in any of them. It was as if they had suddenly stopped taking pictures when he had been born and what made him sad was that it was probably true.

Rice returned with the blankets and tossed them to Kakarott, politely ignoring the fact that he had tears streaming down his face.

"There you go. See you tomorrow," he said, turning to leave.

"How long have you and Raditz been friends?" Kakarott asked suddenly.

Rice furrowed his brows in thought.

"Twenty years? Something like that. A long time at any rate."

"Why?"

He chuckled.

"Why not? Look, you'd be an asshole too if you had to start raising someone else's kid in your prime. He's not that way all the time, though."

"It's just me, then? I ruined everything."

Rice didn't say anything. Part of Kakarott liked that he didn't intend to bullshit him, but the other part had kind of hoped he would. Instead he smiled wryly at him and then turned off the light in the living room.

"Believe me, it's your father more than anything," he said as he left.

Kakarott pulled the blankets over himself. As he stared at the ceiling,a feeling washed over him. He wanted to destroy something so terribly that it ached inside him. He wondered what would happen if he went home and slit his brother's throat ear to ear as he slept.

Would Rice still love him?Would his father disown him? Would he care?

He rolled over and looked at the picture again by the light of the street lamp outside.

He was fourteen and Raditz was fifteen years older than him. He assumed Rice was about the same age as Raditz, 29. He was still pretty young.

He wondered what Rice's body would feel like on top of his...

He shook his head. No. Evil, impure thoughts.

He rolled over, facing away from the picture.

_Would he hold me, take his time, or would he be hurried, business-like?_

Kakarott felt himself hardening. He wondered if Rice liked him that way. Raditz had said that he would have married him to Rice, which implied that Rice had accepted the offer. But that could have been out of benevolence, a duty to an old friend.

He tried to close his eyes and ignore his own arousal, but thoughts just kept pouring into his head.

Would his natural kindness be preserved in mating or would he be bestial, wilder, crueler? Kakarott had to admit that the later turned him on almost as much as the former.

And then a darker though crept into his mind. He would never know any of those things. All he would know was Commander Nappa. Tears welled up in his eyes.

Before he could stop himself, he was ascending the stairs.

_Last door on the left_...

He stood in the doorway for just a moment. Rice's room was much barer than one would expect of a bedroom. There were no personal trinkets, no keepsakes, or pictures.

Kakarott was sure that if he had moved in with Rice, that he wouldn't have much more to put up. He had no worthwhile memories.

_I am so lonely..._

At first, Rice barely noticed when Kakarott climbed into bed with him. He had just shifted to make room for him.

Kakarott felt awkward. He had never been in such a situation. He didn't know what to do. Rice was facing away from him and he didn't know if he should wake him.

He ended up rubbing Rice's muscled and tanned arm until he turned and looked at him skeptically. He looked him in the eyes for several minutes. He seemed to understand. He rolled over and drew Kakarott into his arms.

Kakarott hugged him desperately as they kissed silently. Rice kissed him all over and Kakarott was terribly confused.

Rice ripped Kakarott's clothes apart after he was finished with his shorts, not bothering with buttons or zippers. Kakarott didn't care, he was just so happy to be wanted by someone. His hands freely explored skin that was not his own for the first time in his life and he moaned as Rice suckled each of his nipples in turn.

Rice sat back away from him, straddling his closed legs.

He reached for something—lotion--on the night table. He put some on himself and then coated his fingers before putting it back.

He moved, spreading Kakarott's legs with one of his own and resting one of the boy's legs on his shoulder, He put one finger inside and Kakarott jerked even though the probing was gentle. Rice smiled at him, shaking a dark spike of hair from his eyes. He entered him with another finger. It hurt a bit, but Kakarott relaxed and it was fine. When he was finished, he removed his fingers and put Kakarott's other leg over his other shoulder and positioned himself.

He looked down at the boy for a long time. He caressed his face and smoothed his hair, but he didn't speak. It seemed almost unholy, a sacrilege to utter words.

Neither of them spoke any words for a while and the only sounds to be heard were the mundane and blessed things Kakarott cherished like sweet music---creaking of bedsprings,soft panting breath, crickets and passing cars. He felt as if he would overflow with love and pleasure. He decided that this is what he would miss most when he died----existing in the same space and time with Rice.

Everything felt blurry and wonderful and surreal. Everything was all smooth skin and soft caresses and confessions. And Kakarott cried.

Rice had stopped and looked at him.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly, looking concerned.

Kakarott nodded and rubbed Rice's arms to let him know to continue.

Kakarott finished first, spraying them both with his result and writhing on the moonlit bed. Rice tumbled down after him, roaring and collapsing on top of him.

Kakarott made a mental note that Rice's body was hard, but warm against his. They stayed the way they were for a moment before Rice kissed him one last time, a kiss both beautiful and filled with sorrow and longing, and then turned back toward the window, drifting off into peaceful slumber once more.

Kakarott stayed awake for a long time, staring at Rice's bare back. He knew that this would probably be the only time. He wallowed in the melancholy of the end.


	4. The Prince Who Would Never Be King

Disclaimer: I don't own dbz or any of it's characters...please don't sue me, I'm a poor college student!

A.N: Thanks for the reviews, everyone. In answer to jSinuYasha's question as to whether this fic would have V/G, I say maybe. I'm planning to do some devious, odd things with this fic. As for this chapter...hoo boy, it's a doozy. It's a strange one, but bear with me. This chapter is told from Vegeta's POV. If you haven't guessed , while Kakarott is the main character, I will periodically shift the POV between him, Vegeta, and Bulma as they are essential characters in the story as well. There is rape in this chapter, so if you're disturbed by that sort of thing, you might want to skip this chapter. No worries though, It won't always be so...disturbing. The pairing...might surprise you. Here goes then...

**The Prince Who Would Never Be King**

The sun was setting over Planet Vegeta, painting the sky in violent reds as it descended. Vegeta stood in a corridor in the west wing of the palace that overlooked the launching station. He watched the last of the day's ships take off into the darkening sky with a twinge of longing. His mind raced with images of battle and places he barely remembered.

Blood lust consumed him, occupying many hours and days of his time. He craved battle on far away worlds, he craved for the kill.

But Frieza kept him tucked away on the palace grounds most of the time and he was rarely allowed offworld. This being the case, he found himself lacking in outlets for his war-like nature. At least twice a week, servants went missing, occasionally turning up severely disturbed, but silent, or not at all. Just last week, an alien girl from an ambassadorial family had gone missing during her father's tour. They were still looking for her.

Although nothing had ever been spoken to him about it, Vegeta was sure that Frieza knew of his occasional "slips".

As the last pod disappeared out of his sight, Vegeta decided that he had better accept Frieza's "invitation" to his private chambers for the evening.

He took the long way, through King's Hall. King's Hall was a corridor dedicated to the kings of Planet Vegeta. It was always brightly lit and it's walls were adorned with lavish reds and golds. The walls held 12 portraits. Twelve portraits, all the Saiyan Kings, the entire House Of Vegeta.

They were all champions, great leaders, the epitome of strength and triumph. Vegeta's heart always swelled with pride when he thought of how he was part of this illustrious line.

He paused at the last portrait. He stared at it for a long time, drinking in the picture of the serious looking man in decorative armor. He had to force down the sadness that arose in his heart. He turned away from the picture, unable to look at it any longer.  
Everything had changed when his father had...The world was so much different than it had been before. There were now aliens, inferior creatures living amongst them. Frieza had practically turned their planet into a vacation spot for wealthy aliens looking for exotic places to visit. Not to mention the fact that Frieza's soldiers were everywhere, wreaking havoc. Such a thing would never have happened with his father in power.

He faced the last empty space on the wall across from his father's portrait, The space of the 13th king...the space he would never occupy.

Vegeta found himself placing a hand on the cool surface. He slowly drew the outline of himself on the blank space. Suddenly, he heafd a loud crash. He turned his head to see a frightened servant girl standing frozen near the entrance. On the floor in front of her was a tray of ruined foodstuffs. She looked positively terrified.

Vegeta couldn't help smiling involuntarily. Apparently, word of his "indulgences" had spread to the servants as well.

The girl didn't move to pick up any of the things she'd dropped. She stood very still, as if she thought that if she moved he would attack. Vegeta still hadn't ruled out the possibility that he _would _attack.

He supposed that no one would _really_ miss her if he decided to...then he remembered his prior engagement. How disappointing...He gave her a wink and his most feral smile, which sent her scrambling back the way she came, and continued on his way, laughing to himself.

The hall near Frieza's chambers in the North wing was almost always deserted. No one dared to linger there for long.

Vegeta willed himself numb and pressed the red button on the keypad. He waited and then pressed it again. There was no answer.

Vegeta typed in the code and the door hissed open.

The smell of sex and red wine greeted his nostrils. The first room he entered was in shambles. Broken glass was everywhere, expensive trinkets were smashed on the floor. He stepped around a broken burl table.

It was dark, and Vegeta asked the system for light. As he entered the hall that led to the bedroom, the scent got heavier.

Vegeta kept his poker face, but he was becoming worried about the low, pained moans he was hearing. If Frieza was in that sort of mood...he didn't even want to think about what would happen to him. He placed a hand on the palm pad, which only had data for three people: himself, Frieza, and Zarbon. The door opened to reveal a dimmed room. He stepped inside and the door closed behind him.

Frieza, in his second form, was sitting at the edge of a spacious bed , which was covered in black silk sheets this evening. He didn't look up when Vegeta came in. He seemed to be watching something with a look of disinterest. Vegeta followed his eyes.

Zarbon was lying on the floor on his stomach. He was partly dressed in a ripped blue kimono. Although he didn't look injured, he moaned periodically. Vegeta felt himself become aroused at the sight.

"I'm finished with him. You can have him," Frieza said.

Vegeta bowed. He understood Frieza's words to mean that he wanted to watch the two of them. He had had Vegeta do things like that before, but never with Zarbon.

"I gave him a new drug earlier. It heightens sexual pleasure. Marvelous, really...problem with it, though, is that it saps energy," Frieza explained as he watched Vegeta undress, sounding both pleased and bored, "It was fun while it lasted, though."

Vegeta didn't speak. He knew Frieza wouldn't care. He was most likely under some sort of intoxicant as well.

He knelt near Zarbon's prone body and turned him on his back. He looked exhausted and was panting heavily. Vegeta wondered how long they had been going at it. His usually neat green hair was everywhere and he looked quite messed up on the whole. However, Vegeta had to admit that this busted doll look made him somehow more attractive.

He brushed some hair out of Zarbon's face and his eyes half opened as he groaned in protest. He wasn't bruised or injured, didn't even have a scratch. Vegeta spread Zarbon's legs and inserted a finger into him. He was already slick with Frieza's seed, but as he withdrew the digit, he noticed that he was not bleeding. He felt jealousy wash over him.

Frieza was never so careful with him. Even in his frenzy, he had not hurt Zarbon. Vegeta's own sessions with him almost always ended with him being sent to the tanks.

He frowned a little, positioning himself. Zarbon didn't move or make any protests anymore. Vegeta wanted him to wake, he wanted to see the amber eyes as he fucked him.

He entered him slowly, watching for a reaction. There was none. He supposed that he had passed out or fallen asleep. He was disappointed.

Vegeta began to move in and out of the body below him. He slapped Zarbon's face a few times in an attempt to wake him that only drew more of the tired little groans.

"Kind of useless, isn't he? Oh, I do hate when they break," Frieza mused in a bored tone after watching them for a few minutes.

He stood up.

"I think I'll go and find a more "lively" source of entertainment. I'll leave you to your own devices."

Vegeta watched him disappear through the door before looking back at Zarbon. He frowned again, pulling himself out.

He straddled the pretty boy's waist, peering down into his beautiful face. He allowed his fingers to play in the silky strands of green hair. He was positively angelic as he slept, but Vegeta wanted to make him scream. He wanted to make Zarbon hurt the way Frieza made him hurt.

He decided. He stood up and dragged Zarbon's limp form up onto the bed.

He was starting to stir. As he began to make noises that meant he was probably starting to wake, Vegeta entered him. Zarbon moaned, whether in pain or pleasure, Vegeta did not know or care.

"Lord...Frieza?" a tired voice murmured.

"No," Vegeta replied in a cold, concise voice.

Zarbon blinked slowly a few times. He was disoriented, but he was awake.

"Vegeta?"

"Correct," Vegeta said quietly, flashing him a predatory grin.

The first hard thrust produced the most wonderful of sounds, a fractured cry that left Vegeta's ears ringing. And the eyes---Oh, the eyes! They were wide with confusion, the haze seemed to be lifting from them.

Hands pushed against his chest, but Zarbon was still lethargic and weak from the drug.

Vegeta could smell the blood, it heightened his pleasure made him quicken his pace. He could barely hear Zarbon's pleas. Useless pleas that seemed so far away. Hands pressed insistently against his chest...

That smell was intoxicating, it made him want to...

_Hands pressed against his chest... Thrusts hard enough to split someone in two... Cries __that could wake the dead..._

Vegeta hated him. He was Frieza's favorite, perfect Zarbon, whom he was constantly being compared to. He wanted to destroy him, to debase him, to leave him a perfect wreck. He envied him so much. He envied him his status, his beauty, and most of all his freedom.

Oh, how he craved freedom. His home, the place where he had been born, the place that held most of his happy memories was tainted and he needed to escape it. The palace and Planet Vegeta had become his prison. And his warden...a mad man who had...

He stopped, looking down at Zarbon in sheer shock. The hands were no longer pushing against him. He had given up and was crying softly.

Vegeta realized he was crying too, tears running silently down his cheeks. He wiped them and looked at the moisture on his hand as if it were something alien.

As he looked at Zarbon, he realized that this had been him on many occasions, that he had been left exhausted, bleeding, and sobbing in this very bed. He pushed down the guilt fiercely, refusing to feel sorry for this...this...

He pulled out, wiping himself on the sheets. When he got off the bed, he called servants to come and clean up the mess before stalking to the bathroom to take a shower.

As he stood under the cool water, he felt his senses returning. It wasn't good; his mind raced with images he'd suppressed and things he'd fought his whole life to control. And Control was everything.

Vegeta collapsed to his knees as the water ran over his body. Being in this place, being near Frieza was changing him somehow. He had to get out of this place...even if it killed him.

A.N: How was it? Review and tell me what you thought. I hope it wasn't too disturbing...well maybe I do a little seeing as that was my intention. So there is the plot of Vegeta's arc. I'll try and update as soon as possible.


	5. Table For Three

A.N:Okay, here's chapter five. It's back to Kakarott's POV. No warnings, I guess. Just some angst and emotional baggage.

**Table For Three**

The silence at the dinner table had never been so awkward. It was nothing like the well practiced withdrawal that Raditz and Kakarott had maintained over their years of living together. Bardock had turned up with an impromptu self invitation to dinner. Kakarott had never seen Raditz act so fake before in his life.

Although things seemed civil between then, Kakarott could still sense the tension between hi father and brother. He himself had barely been able to contain his happiness. They had never been all together like this before, like a real family. Almost.

He couldn't help staring at the father he rarely ever saw from across the table. He had stopped eating to look upon the scarred man with an expression of awe and worship as Bardock told stories of his most recent exploits.

After a few minutes, however, Kakarott caught sight of Raditz glaring at him and looked down at his plate.

"So, what brings you here this evening of all evenings?" Raditz asked, his annoyance rather thinly disguised with a casual tone.

Bardock glanced up at Kakarott before turning toward Raditz.

"Well Kakarott is being married off to Commander Nappa in a little less than two days time. I just thought I'd stop by to see him since I won't be around for the ceremony."

Raditz chuckled a little, a forced sound that gave away his intent.

"Yeah, but really. I mean, you didn't seem to care about what happened in his life before. It's been months since you've even seen him."

He was smiling at their father, trying to force a response from him. Kakarott seethed. He hated how Raditz implied that he somehow cared more about him than their father. He knew such a thing could not be true. Complete strangers cared about him more than Raditz did.

But he couldn't help feeling guilty. He somehow felt like he was being ungrateful. Raditz had been raising him for a long time, had done more for him than their father had ever cared to.

Bardock ignored his older son's baiting. He waited a few moments before looking up at his younger son thoughtfully.

"So, what happened to your face?"

"Training," Raditz replied immediately before Kakarott could even open his mouth. He seared his younger brother with his eyes.

The look triggered a memory for Kakarott. A memory of a stern man sitting in a chair beside a hospital bed containing a badly bruised little boy with his arm in a sling.

Bardock had not spoken at all then, as Kakarott had lain there on the hospital bed, wallowing in his own pain. Medical had refused their request for a tank, saying that since Kakarott was not a soldier, they had no tanks to waste on him.

Raditz had stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms folded across his chest.

"Training," he had said in curt explanation to their father.He had looked at Kakarott with that same burning look he was using now. A look that dared him to contradict. Bardock had said nothing.

But this evening, he wasn't so passive.

"I didn't ask you. I asked him," he told his oldest son, still looking at Kakarott expectantly.

Kakarott could feel the heat emanating from his brother's gaze. He wasn't sure whether or not it was directed at him, because his eyes were on his plate, not daring to look at either man. He swallowed hard.

"Training," he replied quietly, pushing a piece of cut meat around on his plate with his fork.

"Mmm-hm. That's what I thought you'd say"

"What's that supposed to mean?!" Raditz shot at him, his pretense of civility melting away.

"It's supposed to mean that he'll say anything you want him to to avoid getting beaten," Bardock said simply, "Really, Raditz. You don't really thing I'm so stupid that I haven't figured out what's been going on?"

"No, not stupid. Just neglectful.You're never around enough to know anything about us!"

"I've read your reports! You think I don't check up on you guys when I can? He's in the hospital every other week!"

"They're training accidents!" Raditz cried, slamming his fist down on the table so hard Kakarott jumped.

"Training accidents my ass! If the kid's been training that hard, he should be a fucking super saiyan by now!"

Raditz was red in the face with anger and embarrassment at having been caught in his misdeeds. Kakarott knew it was taking all his self control not to overturn the table and wrap his hands around Bardock's neck. He seemed to breathe in deeply for a while before, speaking as calmly as he could.

"Alright then. If you've read the reports and you knew he was being 'abused', why didn't you come running back to get him?"

"I was---." Bardock seemed to notice the poor choice of wording and went silent to Raditz's obvious glee. Kakarott felt his heart twist when he thought about what his father had been about to say.

Raditz didn't let the slip go unnoticed.

"Oh, that's right. You were too busy. Meanwhile, I was the one left to take care of him. I was the one who put clothes on his back and food in his mouth, while you were running around playing soldier of fortune. Me."

Bardock looked as if he wanted to say something, but he let it go. Instead, he stood up and walked to the back door. He took one last look a his sons, before shaking his head and disappearing into the darkness.

When they were alone, Raditz slammed his fist down on the table again. Kakarott didn't move, afraid to draw attention to himself. After a few minutes of staring off into space, Raditz spoke to him.

"Why are you still sitting there? Clear the table and do the dishes."

Kakarott got up to obey immediately. There was silence in the little kitchen for a while except for the clinking of dishes and silverware.

"I'm sorry," Kakarott said after a while, hoping that it was enough.

Raditz sighed.

"I don't need to hear that from you," he replied in a low voice. He stood up and left Kakarott alone.

A.N: Did you like it? I promise to keep the updates coming. I already have the next chapter in mind. Keep reading!


	6. Changes

A.N: I know it's been a long time since I've updated, but I'm finally back on track and ready to start writing again. I wasn't going to post this chapter, because it was so short, but I think It's just what I needed to become inspired again. Hope it's enjoyed. Promise it won't be long before another chapter appears. No warnings in this chapter!

It rained harder than it had all season on the day in which Kakarott was to leave. He and Bulma stood on the porch, leaning against the wooden railings. Inside the house, almost everything was packed into boxes, none of which belonged to Kakarott. His things had fit into a single box which had been picked up the day before by a sharply dressed, non-saiyan man in an expensive looking car with tinted windows. He had explained that he would be back the next day to collect Kakarott himself rather officiously before climbing back into the dark Sedan and driving away down the street.

"Ready?" Bulma asked after a while, looking at him seriously as she extended her arm beyond the dripping gutter to catch drops of water in her palm.

Kakarott shrugged. How could one be ready for something so sudden, something so alien? He supposed that he was excited about the newness of the situation, but that was all.

He could hear Raditz whistling some unknown tune inside the house. His fingers gripped the railing until it splintered. He stared at the crushed part of the railing for a moment and stood up straight. He and his brother had not spoken since the kitchen two days ago. He wondered if they ever would again.

"Have you said goodbye to Rice?"

Kakarott looked up at Bulma sullenly. He had tried to tell him. He really had. He had stopped at his house three times, but Rice had not been there. He had called and called and called. He had even checked public records and found out that Rice wasn't scheduled for another mission for nearly 6 months. He had cried a little after that, but had told himself that he _knew_ Rice was kind and good and that he was just busy with other things at the moment. Yes, that was it.

"I guess he's busy," Kakarott said in a far away voice.

"Oh." Kakarott knew what she was thinking and he told himself again that it wasn't true. He needed desperately to believe that this wasn't the end of the only good thing he had.

They were silent for a while, watching a pick-up truck stop in front of the house across the way. A few young saiyan soldiers came out of the house, speaking boisterously, punching each other playfully. Getting picked up for a mission, no doubt.

"Oh! I almost forgot to tell you! Guess what?" Bulma perked up, her face smiling suddenly.

"What?"

"I've got a job interview for the Empire's laboratory in the palace! Isn't that great?!"

She looked extremely thrilled, her blue eyes lighting up. Kakarott felt guilty. He knew that this was her dream, but he found it hard to care at the moment. He smiled big and nodded as she talked excitedly about it.

"I'm so excited! I know it's just an assistant job, but I've got a lot of ideas that've been going to waste working in that shitty little diner. If I could just get out of that diner--EVERYTHING could change!"

"I really hope you get it. It's-It's great."

Kakarott couldn't help but feel angry at Bulma. She knew what kind of life he was headed for and all she could do was stand here and tell him about how her life was taking flight. And how it still belonged to her. He smiled and knotted his hands around each other to stop himself from squeezing the railing till it splintered again.

Guilt and sadness consumed him. He didn't know how he could be angry with Bulma. It wasn't her fault that things seemed to be working out for her finally. She was his best friend...

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Sedan pull up silently in front of the house and he almost felt relieved. Without warning, Bulma threw her arms around him and he flinched away from the surprise contact. After a moment or two, he reciprocated, his eyes wandering toward the Sedan as he heard a door open.

Kakarott closed his eyes. He imagined Bulma in her pink work uniform and the warm, ambient little diner between the weapons shop and the veteran's bar and felt a knot rise in his throat. She smelled like clean lavender, which made him smile because clean scents meant good days.

When they seperated, Kakarott could see that the man was standing on the sidewalk a few inches from the open backseat door.

"Ready?" He asked in a bored tone, ignoring Bulma, his watery gray eyes focused on his target. His suit was getting wet in the rain.

Kakarott didn't say a word. He didn't look at Bulma again or the house. He didn't even notice when Raditz came out of the front door. He simply descended the stairs into the pouring rain like a man resigned to hell. He could hear Bulma shouting her love at him, her voice cracking, and in his heart he hoped she got the job. Only, for selfish reasons. He needed to hold on to something.


	7. Welcome to The Wringer

Disclaimer: I don't own dbz or any of it's characters...please don't sue me, I'm already broke as hell!

A.N: I've finally gotten to Bulma. I got a bit of inspiration and decided to write about Bulma's interview for the Lab job. No warnings this chapter.

**The Wringer**

The room was bare and white, with only a desk and two chairs, one which sat behind the desk and the other in which Bulma was now seated.

When she entered the room, the woman peered at Bulma from over the top of her glasses with a cold gaze and then looked at the clipboard she held in her red-fingernailed hand. She was tall and straight-backed with skin the color of Bulma's own. Her hair was pulled back neatly into a dark bun at the back of her head, which made her fiercely cut bone structure even harsher. She had the bluest eyes Bulma had ever seen, even bluer than her own. She looked human yet not, and while Bulma was curious about that, she didn't think she was in a position to ask.

This was not a real interview, not in the sense that Bulma understood, anyway. The Empire was big on facts and figures and calculations of people's abilities. The real interview had taken place days before, when she had taken the various tests the Laboratory Sciences department had deemed necessary, tests many of the other scientists had taken as children on their respective home planets. This was one final test. She sat nervously in the uncomfortable, but expensive, oak chair, fiddling nervously with her hands, compulsively smoothing the wrinkles in her black skirt. From the look of her painstakingly ironed and creased labcoat, this woman did not seem like the type to tolerate messiness.

"Lets see here, it seems you've tested very high in Scientific Aptitude, your Creativity Aptitude levels are exceptional, and your overall Intelligence levels are off the scale," the woman spoke all of this in a monotone, her facial expression was annoyance thinly disguised by boredom.

There was a pause as the woman looked over the clipboard. Her hard expression seemed to falter briefly, a slight look of shock that was almost immediately replaced with the annoyed expression.

"Your Father was , founder of Capsule Corporation, Earth's most lucrative company before its...demise. Interesting."

Bulma was surprised. How could this woman know of her father if she wasn't from Earth?

"My-my father? You know of him?! "

"The Cold Empire has extensive records on noteworthy people throughout the universe. As cliche as it sounds, it is always important to know one's enemy. Your father was looked at as a potential asset to the Empire to be acquired before the destruction of earth."

Bulma's stomach hurt to think about her father. She tried not to let it show. She knew that weakness was something every department in the empire despised and used as a weeding out tool. She understood that even though the decision had already been made, it could be changed based on the results of the interview(which really wasn't an interview at all in the sense that Bulma understood it). This woman was testing her. It was so obvious that the woman expected her next question, would probably have continued to goad her into it if she hadn't asked herself.

"Why wasn't he chosen?" Bulma asked, swallowing against the lump in her throat.

"He was too old to be made to understand the way things work in the Empire. He would have come here with some silly notion of "changing" things. Besides, his estimated Creativity Aptitude was waning and he was reaching his peak. While teaching an old dog new tricks is possible, they generally don't pick them up as quickly as the young dogs. Young dogs, like you, are simply easier to train and offer fresher ideas. A brilliant boy from Razik suited our needs quite nicely instead."

_So life isn't important to you people at all?! Don't you care about anything besides how much someone is worth you in terms of capital gain?!_ Bulma thought bitterly. Would she become like this? Coldly professional, deciding whether people deserved to live or die by facts and figures and hypothetical analysis? She thought about how those poor lower class Saiyan kids must feel, knowing they were deemed worthless from such an early age, their whole lives decided by Strength Aptitude and Power Level tests administered before they were even old enough to understand.

Part of her wanted to stand up and run as far away from this interview as possible, but the other part remembered the small, freezing apartment she shared with 6 other people and that horrible diner where men twice her age sexually harassed her everyday.

"Well, what would benefit the Empire most is best." Bulma spoke quietly, seriously, but the sarcastic version sounded better in her head.

"Indeed...," The woman replied softly. She went down what seemed to be a list with the pen in her other hand. "You live in the lower class district, so I don't suppose a relocation would bother you. No bastard children we should know about, are there?"

Bulma's lips pursed involuntarily at the rude question. She saw herself standing up and punching the woman in the face in her minds eye, which amused her enough to allow her to speak in a professionally unoffended tone.

"No, no children."

"Any vices: drugs, alcohol, etcetera?"

"None."

"We didn't come up with names of any _living_ deviants associated with you, so that's always a plus. No boyfriends, no family...sad, but the less distractions the better, i always say. There is one friend, though. A boy named Kakarott..."

"Yes, he's-"

The woman turned a few pages on the clipboard.

"Kakarott, birth number 570029-EV6, bearer, born low class to Soldier Bardock and Soldier Okura, brother of Royal Guard Raditz, betrothed to Commander Nappa. We know quite well who he and every Saiyan born on this planet is. As I've stated before, our records are quite extensive, Miss Briefs."

The woman let the pages fall and looked again at the first sheet.

"Well, everything looks in order, then. I must tell you now, however, that you were not accepted by the Laboratory Sciences department, " she said smugly, a slight smile curving her thin lips, which seemed almost unnatural.

"WHAT?!" Bulma was nearly out of her seat, her hands gripping the arms of the chair, propelling her body forward.

"You can calm down now, Miss Briefs. While you did not originally apply there, use has been found for you in the Weapon Sciences and Technologies department. Congratulations."

Bulma was in shock. She wasn't sure whether she should be happy or upset. She had never thought about working is that department. She had seen it on her initial application, but had ignored it.

She had seen first hand what the weaponry from that department did to innocent people's lives and had not wanted to be a part of it. People like her family and friends from Earth. Yet she couldn't bring herself to turn down the job. She wasn't even sure she could form a rejection coherently.

Everything suddenly felt very strange and wrong, like she was in someone else's body. The woman was smiling a real smile now, one that showed pearly white teeth. The smile of a shark. Bulma felt herself stand, her hand extending to accept the woman's own extended hand.

"Now, if you could just take a look at the contract and sign your name at the end, we can get started."

Bulma's eyes scanned the contract, not really reading it. It was several pages long, so she simply waited a reasonable length of time before turning to the next page. There was nothing in the contract that she didn't already know. She was quite sure that by signing on the dotted line, her soul would belong eternally to the Empire, that death would be the only thing to unbind her.

Part of her wondered if she wasn't trading one prison for another, but she realized she didn't really care. She supposed that this prison would be much more comfortable than the last.

Before she could review the neat scrawl that was her signature, the contract was plucked from her hands by the shark. For the first time, Bulma noticed the name-badge pinned to her labcoat. Corriander. A pretty name, Bulma decided, a name that didn't seem right on such a severe woman.

"Welcome to the family," Corriander said, tearing of Bulma's copy of the contract. Bulma felt a chill run through her as she accepted the paper.

"You've been assigned suite 5 in the south western wing. There's a little community there dedicated to Planet Vegeta's non-military personnel. Makes things a bit safer for us. Your things will be picked up from your current residence tomorrow. You will begin work next week. Again, congratulations. I know you will do very well."

Corriander handed her a keycard with her name and department on it and left the room quite quickly, leaving Bulma standing alone in the small bare room.

_This is certainly going to be interesting... _Bulma thought, looking down at the keycard. She wondered absently what Kakarott was doing and if he was as confused as she was.

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AN: Hello all! Thanks for the reviews, everyone! I thought it was time I wrote Bulma's piece. I'm currently writing the next chapter, which will belong to Kakarott and will be much more exciting. It won't be long, so be patient!


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